


Blondes die first

by oddishly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23404687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddishly/pseuds/oddishly
Summary: Just while they've got nowhere else to be.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16
Collections: Supernatural Spring Fling 2020





	Blondes die first

A selkie outside of Portland, a poltergeist or two further east, and they eventually found a handsome cottage to hole up in at the end of a line of crop circles punctuating the Arizona-Utah state line.

“Look, Sammy,” said John, lowering his sawed-off and using it to point along at the mantelpiece. “Original fittings.”

Dean caught Sam rolling his eyes and said, “Oh, yeah?”

“Mmhmm. Actually, this sconce is probably older than the whole of the rest of the house is.” John gave the sconce a hearty rap with his knuckles. It sounded like any other bit of metal, Dean thought, but who was he to know.

“Check it out, pick your rooms,” said John. “Dean, make dinner. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“Where are you going?”

“Talking to some fellas in town,” said John. He was already halfway out the door. “There’s a machete shortage.”

Dean waited. “And?”

“And you can’t be too careful in these parts,” said John. “Might be nothing. Might be something. I’m gonna go with the guy next door and look over his fields before we go to town. Might have a bit of work for me.”

“You’ve got to have a lot of machetes to know when there’s a shortage,” Sam remarked. He was looking at a hole in the ceiling, nose wrinkled. “Sounds like a set up to me.”

John tried to come up with something to say in response. “I’ll be careful,” is what he decided on, which wasn’t the worst thing he could have said, Dean thought. “Now, you boys mind each other. Nice sunny day like this, never know what might turn up here.”

Then he smiled like he was trying to be a normal dad making jokes about haunted houses instead of running away to let his sons look after each other, and left with an awkward wave at both of them.

“I’ll be careful,” repeated Sam softly. “Cool. What do I know.” He made to slope off through the door on the other side of the room but Dean caught him by the back of his sweater.

“Hold up, Sammy. Wait for me to go upstairs, all right?”

Sam looked sourly at him. “Seriously?”

“Two’s better than one, you know that. I’ll just be a minute, I wanna check out the kitchen first.”

“Jesus Christ, Dean,” muttered Sam, but he flopped down into an armchair covered by a sheet, long legs hanging over the arm and swinging in space. “Go, whatever.”

“Thank you,” said Dean, only a little bit sarcastically, and ducked back out across the hall. The house was all uncharacteristic dark wood and black and white tile on the floors, and Dean couldn’t fathom what was so important about a machete shortage but that sure was a lot of butcher’s knives hanging up above the counter over there.

Floorboards creaked overhead. Dean frowned up. “Sammy?”

The ceiling didn’t reply.

Dean took a deep breath, running his tongue over the backs of his teeth. Then he pushed through the door to the hallway and saw the door to the living room swinging and took the stairs two at a time. “Where you at, Sammy?”

“In here,” came Sam’s voice from a room at the far end of the landing.

Dean barged in and found someone tall and red-haired and dressed all in Sammy’s clothes looking out of the window. “Who the fuck--oh,” he said in surprise, when the person turned out to be Sam in a wig. He had a pink feather boa wrapped around his neck.

“Hello, Dean,” said Sam in a low, sultry sort of voice. He was watching Dean all bright-eyed, looking sweetly up through his eyelashes. “Didn’t expect to find you here.”

Dean stared. Some other part of him was rolling his eyes at how quickly Sam’s mood could turn around, but mostly he was charmed. And a bit intrigued. He wasn’t completely sure what was going on here but he was into it.

Dean let the door close and leaned back against it. “Where else would I be, sugar?”

Sam sashayed very slowly across the room towards him, with all the grace of a giraffe learning how to walk. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said in that same husky voice, keeping both eyes on Dean. “In some downtown bar, drinking whiskey with some … downtown gal.”

“Why would I be there?” says Dean, heart racing all up in his chest. He caught a lock of Sam’s now long red hair as he got close and curled it around his finger. “When I got my gal right here.”

Sam blushed, looking like Dean felt, pleased and a bit unsure, but he leaned in and kissed Dean’s mouth anyway. It was a long, light press that tasted like chapstick and cinnamon.

“You’re killing me here, baby girl,” Dean murmured against his mouth when Sam tried to pull away. “You gotta stop using that toothpaste.”

“Still got half a tube of it left,” Sam whispered back. “Don’t make wagers you don’t want me to keep to.” He wriggled out of Dean’s hold. “Anyway it obviously doesn’t bother you that much.” He cast an eye up and down Dean’s body in a seductive sort of a way, then continued his saunter across the room to make faces at himself in the mirror.

Dean looked at the big cardboard box sitting open next to the window and went to investigate further. It had nurses’ scrubs, a proper pirate outfit, a collection of colorful overalls bundled up together, and a bunch more wigs that Sam must have tried on and discarded.

Underneath all that was an array of costumes that looked like they were supposed to be for comic book characters. Dean brightened and he pulled out a Captain America costume to hold up against his chest. “Whaddya think? Suits me, doesn’t it?”

Sam looked sideways. His mouth twitched down and he looked back at the mirror. “Some superheroes we are.”

“Did I say anything about anyone else?” said Dean, determined not to let Sam ruin his own good mood and Dean’s by proxy. “Me.” He looked thoughtfully at the costume and gave it his best southern drawl when he said, “I bet if I put this on, my girl would use whatever toothpaste I asked her to.”

“Maybe,” said Sam, then put his voice back on again. “I think your girl will already do most anything you ask, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean dropped Captain America back into the box. Dean never liked those comics much anyway. “Tell me more.”

“Oh, you know. Wear what you like. Cook what you like.” Sam swished his hair a bit. “Do my hair like you like.”

“I do like,” said Dean, walking his way. “Big fan.”

Sam smiled. “Good,” he said meaningfully, and swooped the feather boa around Dean in a loop. “Let’s see what else you like.”


End file.
